


Vermillion

by cemeteryrat



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, kinda me projecting on stan tbh, like bLEH feelings, whoops i said this was angsty burn it’s more just
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cemeteryrat/pseuds/cemeteryrat
Summary: This can’t be real.





	Vermillion

**Author's Note:**

> i’m so sorry for what you’re about to read.

It wasn’t something normal. 

Stanley Uris knew it wasn’t. From the time he was thirteen to when he stepped up to the altar to say “I do”, he knew in his heart that this wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right, nor was it wrong, but it put him off balance.

His dalliance with Richie Tozier was something he would always remember. Even in his late thirties, he recalled fondly every single almost kiss, every fight, every touch (in his mind, he thought it was true love between the two).

He was the myth that Stanley Uris believed in. 

Maybe he should’ve told Patricia where he was going when he got ready to board a plane on that crisp fall morning. Maybe he should’ve just said he was seeing an old friend instead of saying he had ‘business to attend to’. 

The flight was a boring one to say the least, it was filled with the sounds of idle chatter and an occasional cough or sneeze. Nothing notable happened. The flight had arrived at least thirty minutes late to Derry, Maine. The touchdown had been rocky and uneven, much like Stan’s thoughts and even more so, his stomach. He felt as if he was going to be sick. Memories came flooding back into his brain, memories of a summer long ago, a girl with bright red hair and boys with scuffs on their knees and a missing child. 

He shivered, wrapping his coat tighter around him as he exited the plane, taking in the less polluted air. Derry had always been likeable for the fact that there was less pollution than there was in the city, Stan recalled, shaking his head. Random facts shouldn’t be his concern right now. 

He obtained his luggage, settling into a hotel close by his childhood home, deciding everything could wait till the morning. 

Before he fell asleep, he called Mike Hanlon, who advised him that, at the time, Derry was again, not safe to be in. Stan brushed this off, telling Mike he’d see him in the morning. 

Dawn broke quicker than expected. Stan’s hotel alarm clock went off loudly, suddenly shutting off as Stan slapped his palm against the ‘OFF’ button. 

He got ready, trading in his usual business attire for a soft blue sweater and jeans. Exiting the hotel, he greeted the lady at the desk, talking for a few moments with her and unbeknownst to Stan, his subconscious was stalling. 

Mike met him halfway at a small coffee shop that had opened soon after Stan had left town. They chatted over a black coffee and hot chocolate, catching up on how their lives had been, how the others had been. Bill had gone off to become a writer, Ben had become an architect, Beverly a fashion designer. Eddie had mostly fallen off the face of the earth, but still a resident in the small town, living with his mother. 

“Alright, Stan. You ready?” Mike asked the question quietly and Stan nearly choked on the coffee in his throat. 

“Y-Yeah..I think I am.” He replied solemnly, standing. “Let’s do this.”

It had been a long time since Stan had last seen Richie. From what he understood, Richie had last had a job at the local radio station, creating characters and entertaining people, just what he wanted to do. He had told Stan on one of their many nightly rendezvous, that he had hoped to become famous for his impressions. 

And that he did. 

Coming to a full stop, Stan took in a deep breath before opening the gates. The rose bouquet in his hands shook violently, as if he had lost control of his movements or the cold had suffocated him. Mike had stayed behind at the gate. He knew that this time, Stan had to go alone. 

The placard on the marble read like a novel. Stan chuckled, again reminiscing on something else Richie had always wanted. Placing the roses on the dirt before him, he was overcome with emotion, falling to his knees. 

“Hey Rich..it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Stan’s hand slowly traced the letters on the placard. Tears fell freely from his eyes, his breathing getting shallower by the second. He couldn’t do this. He ran away, as he did the first time he saw Richie like this. He ran past Mike, who attempted to go after him, but gave up as Stan ran into his hotel, past the lady at the desk, to his room where he shut the door and locked it tight.

He ran a warm bath. That always soothed him in times of distress. It was definitely a hot bath that he needed. The spigot made a horrible squealing noise before pushing out water, colder than what Stan would’ve liked, but it was all he had. He sunk into the bath, lifting up an arm to grasp at the counter. 

It was simple, easy even. The crosses he bore filled the tub with a blinding vermillion. 

The last thought on Stanley Uris’ mind before he closed his eyes that evening, was the placard he had read earlier.

‘Richard Michael Tozier  
September 17th, 1976 to November 14th, 1993  
May he be held in your hearts forever’


End file.
